Freedom
by Taenar
Summary: Edward has been raised in a devotedly religious family. Meeting Jasper makes him realize something he never wanted to know about himself.
1. Freedom

**SLASH BACKSLASH ONE-SHOT CONTEST**

**Story Name:**** Freedom  
Pen name: Taenar  
Pairing: Edward & Jasper  
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, character names, nor any recognizable settings. It is also not my intention to offend anyone by this story due to his/her religious views.**

**To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2: ****.net/c2/68069/3/0/1/**

"Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake.

It is not easy.

It is not a gift given, but a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one. The road goes upward towards the light; but the laden traveler may never reach the end of it."

U.K. LeGuin, _Tombs of Atuan_

o()()()o_  
_

Bella tangles her fingers in the hair at the back of my head and presses her soft lips to mine. It feels... nice, I guess.

And wrong.

As always.

"I miss you already" she sighs against my lips. "I'll miss... this". "Me too" – I whisper back and then freeze. Shame and guilt and just... sheer misery flood me as she gazes at me quizzically. "Liar!" – screams a high-pitched voice in my head. Sure as hell I will miss her_,_ but _kissing _her...

"What's wrong, Edward?"

"Nothing" – I lie again. "I – I don't know". Another lie. I do know. I have known for exactly one month, three weeks and five days. I have known since the very moment I first set my eyes on _him._

o()()()o

Somehow it had never occurred to me before – or rather, I guess I must had been very good at lying to myself, pushing the inconvenient facts away and refusing to combine them into the true picture. And to be honest, I had some good reasons for it. My family was devotedly Catholic and the first time I can remember hearing the word 'homosexual', was in the context that homosexual people should not be allowed to get married. The first time I can remember hearing the word 'sex' was in the context that you shouldn't do it until you're married. I didn't understand much of it back then but 2 plus 2 made 4 and I got the message: whoever these homosexual people exactly were, and whatever this sex thing exactly was, _they_ should definitely not do _it_.

At 16, I began to have my questions and doubts about some religion-related issues but I never really questioned any of the moral teachings of the Church. So when I started dating Bella, our physical relationship never went further than chaste kisses and hugs and hand-holding, and it was surprisingly easy to keep it at this level… tooeasy. When I finally realized I didn't actually _feel _like doing anything more with her physically, I was slightly worried. I pushed the worries away, however, because I felt happy with her. She was smart and pretty and caring, and I cared a whole lot about her, too. We laughed at the same things, loved the same books and – mostly – the same movies. We could talk for hours about everything or just sit together in silence, absolutely comfortable with each other's presence. What more could there be to a relationship?

The bubble burst the first day of our senior year of high school.

The whole town had been talking about Dr Maria Whitlock Hale, a new surgeon in our hospital, who moved to Forks all the way from Austin with her family - so I wasn't surprised to see two new kids enter our school cafeteria during lunchtime. The girl was a real beauty, I noticed, with a model's body and shiny blond hair down to her waist.

And then I looked at her brother.

It felt as if all of my blood rushed between my legs. My heart missed a beat and suddenly I was gasping for air.

Seconds later, when I regained some sort of composure, I shot a quick glance around, feeling incredibly thankful that a person sitting next to me was my brother instead of Bella who would immediately notice that something was going on. Emmett didn't actually seem to notice anything apart from the Hale girl. I guess I could have found it amusing in a way – we were twins falling for another pair of twins, at the very same moment – but I was anything but amused.

It was like finding that one missing piece of puzzle that finally makes sense of the whole picture.

The picture was painfully clear.

I was a freak, with sick cravings („…_tradition has always declared that homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered. They are contrary to the natural law_.").

I hadn't even realized I remembered this quote from the Catechism, but I did – and it fucking hurt.

I would have to be single ("_Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery that teach them inner freedom, at times by the support of disinterested friendship, by prayer and sacramental grace, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection_").

Or would I?

I decided to fight back. I didn't say anything to Bella and I acted as if nothing had happened. I tried to avoid _him_ as much as I could. It was difficult though, because _his _sister and my brother had been practically inseparable ever since Emmett asked Rosalie out this very first day. So I trained myself to ignore the emotions that flooded me each time I saw _him_ or heard _him _speaking (he turned out to be intelligent and witty on top of being beautiful, which only made things worse for me). I convinced myself I could stay with Bella and just... be normal.

Weeks passed and my life felt more and more surreal – like I was watching myself acting on some kind of scene, rather than actually _being _myself.

One night I woke up just after 2 am with an intense feeling of pleasure that quickly gave way to shame when I realized that I had a hand tucked into my pajama pants which were sticky and moist.

That was the first night I dreamt about Jasper Hale.

After the third one, I decided I needed a break.

o()()()o

"So, are you finally going to tell me what the problem is?" Esme asked, taking a seat next to me at the terrace of her house in Manaus.

Esme Platt was my mother's older sister, a professor of mathematics and one of my favorite persons in the world. Her CV could serve as a basis for a good movie. In her youth, she was a rebel, a drug addict, and a victim of an abusive boyfriend she eventually escaped from when three months pregnant. When her baby died shortly after birth, she jumped off the cliff to kill herself. A British doctor, Carlisle Cullen, who operated on her after that and saved her life, helped her to 'find a way back to living in accord with the world', as she once put it. They fell in love and got married (she refused to take his surname though, calling it a sexist tradition). They adopted two little girls, Alice and Cynthia. For years, it seemed like Esme's life, after her troubled past, became a picture of perfection. Reality came crushing back when one day she arrived from work to find her older daughter - 15 at the time –standing in the middle of the living room with wide, unfocused eyes, whispering "their coming for us, their coming..." Alice had a psychotic attack.

I was a little kid back then but I'll never forget the moment I saw my favorite big cousin for the first time since she'd become ill – she looked like a shadow of the vibrant, happy girl I'd known before and it scared me to death. It took three years for her to come back to normal, but she did. Years later, when she got a PhD position in tropical ecology, based in Brazil, the whole Platt-Cullen family decided to move with her, to be close and make sure she was fine. They'd lived in Manaus for two years already, Carlisle working at a hospital and Esme…

"Did my sister forget to teach you how rude it is not to answer your auntie's questions?" Esme poked me in the shoulder and winked at me. "Seriously, boy, I'm starting to worry about you. What's wrong?"

"Why do you think something's wrong?" I muttered, avoiding her gaze.

She snorted.

"I've known you since you were a baby, Edward. I can see something's up. Besides...I do believe you want to learn Portuguese, and I'm very happy to have you here, but leaving school for a month during your senior year is decidedly unlike the normal you. Seems to me like you're running from something." She shot me a piercing look, and I cringed. She sighed. "I don't want to be nosy, though. I'll leave you alone if you don't want to talk about it, but I'm here if you do..."

"Thanks, Esme" - I said, looking down at my lap. "I do want to talk to you, that's really why I came here, I guess. It's just..." I took a deep breath, deciding I could as well get it over with. "I think I'm in  
love or something and…" I was trying to force the rest of the words through my mouth but I kind of choked on them and stopped, frustrated.

Esme waited for a minute or two. "In love, as in: with someone else than your girl?" she finally asked.

"Yeah, and I... and it's... I mean... It's a _guy_" – I managed, feeling my cheeks burning, my throat becoming ash-dry, and my hands clenching into fists on their own accord.

_Yeah, cry like a fucking baby, you __fairy_ - I thought as I felt my eyes stinging with tears, trying to will them away.

I felt Esme's hand on my shoulder and looked up to meet her gaze. I feared to see the expression of shock or pity, but of course this was Esme. She just looked at me with serious eyes, waiting.

"I don't know what to do" I said desperately, shaking my head.

"What do you feel like doing?"

I blushed again, shame my dominant emotion at the thought of what exactly I felt like doing every time I saw Jasper.

"It's too...embarrassing and disgusting to even talk about " I mumbled.

"You want him" she observed, and my cheeks burned a little more. "That's neither embarrassing nor disgusting, Edward."

I only gaped at her.

"You said you're in love with him. It's natural to want someone you're in love with."

I gaped at her some more.

"Whatever" I finally said. "It's still… wrong, isn't it?"

"Do you feel it's wrong?" she asked.

"That's what I was taught" I said. Wasn't it rather obvious? We were Catholics, for Christ's sake.

"That's not what I'm asking. Do _you_ feel it's wrong?"

"I don't know, Esme - that's how I was raised, you know that! That's what our religion teaches. How else would I know something is wrong? Or right?"

"Well", she said, her eyes thoughtful, "that's a very good question. It's not easy - mostly. But I wouldn't leave it to any institution to decide for you. Nor to any other person, for that matter. Why would _they_ know what's right while you don't?"

"From...God?"

"You think so?"

Well, there it was. I'd had doubts about it for a while already. If all Church's teachings came from God, then apparently He must had been changing His mind considerably over the centuries – from holy wars to ecumenism, from allowing slavery to condemning it, from forbidding autopsies to allowing organ transplants. But still...

"I have to have _something_ to refer to, no? I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to know what's right?" I blurted out and bit my tongue one moment too late to stop the word you shouldn't really say in the presence of your aunt.

But this was Esme, so she just smirked at me and answered in a casual tone "That's a fucking good question, I told you already".

"Fine, but where's the good answer? It's not like you can use calculus to find a solution, is it?"

She laughed.

"Well, that would be nice, certainly" she said. "But no, unfortunately I'm not aware of any mathematical solutions to morality issues." Her eyes grew serious again. "The only thing I can tell you in this respect is to use your brain and think about the consequences of whatever you're doing. That's how I'm trying to act, anyway."

"Consequences?"

"Yeah, consequences for others... and for yourself. Rather than taking for granted that something's right or wrong because that's what you were taught, try to ask yourself _why _it would be right or wrong." She looked me in the eye. "Why do you think it would be wrong if you had a boyfriend?"

My stomach twisted and my face burned again. She took me completely off guard. This idea has never even crossed my mind before. It seemed so crazy and out of question that I couldn't really get my head around it.

Esme looked at her watch and then at me apologetically. "I hate leaving you at this point of this particular conversation, but I have a lecture in half an hour. We'll talk again later, OK?"

o()()()o

"Hi" she said nervously.

Why was _she _nervous? I, on the other hand... nervous would be an understatement of the year if I was to describe how I felt. I'd been relieved when Bella had e-mailed me saying she wouldn't be able to pick me up from the airport, but now she was here and there was no postponing of what I needed to tell her.

Hours of discussions with Esme didn't bring me much peace of mind. First, she shocked the hell out of me by questioning the one thing which had seemed obvious to me about my whole shitty situation: that wanting another guy was bad, something I needed to fight against. It was quite obvious that she thought otherwise, but she wouldn't openly say it to me either, and refused every single time I'd ask her for actual advice about what I should do. Instead, she kept challenging me with questions: "why do you think it's wrong?" "why do you think it's right?" and "what do you feel like doing?" over and over again.

When I finally lost my nerve one day and asked her whether she considered herself my family or some fucking shrink, she gave me a long look. "It's generally easier to just follow the rules someone else set up for you rather than make your own choices, but I think that's a little miserable and can be dangerous" she said. "That's why I tried to make you question some of the things you'd been taught. But I didn't do that in order to replace them with _my _ideas, Edward. I won't live your life for you. No one will. So no one can tell you how to live it."

Rationally, I knew she was right about it but at the same time, it was all really fucking confusing. I couldn't picture myself in a relationship with a guy. It felt wrong...dirty. Yeah, definitely wrong. To the question what exactly was wrong about it I had no answer though.

It bugged me. It confused me. It pissed me off to no end.

_So much for getting help from Esme._

Her talking about "thinking about the consequences" made me realize one thing though: I definitely had to tell Bella what was going on. It was beyond unfair from my part to keep her in this relationship with me without explaining how I really felt.

I honestly hadn't thought about it before – I guess I'd been too busy doing the _right _thing and pushing my _wrong _feelings away... how ironic was that?

So here I was, looking in Bella's brown eyes, searching for words I hated to have to say.

"I have to tell you something" I blurted out. _If you don't do this immediately, you might never work up the balls to do it at all._

"I should have told you earlier... I'm sorry... I'm... I think..." I was stuttering and getting more and more pissed off with myself. "I'm gay, Bella" I finally managed, looking at my shoes.

Silence.

I chanced a glance at her. Her face was blank.

"How long... have you known that?" she asked in a voice that sounded completely unfamiliar.

"A while." I fixed my gaze on my shoes again. "Since September".

When she spoke again, her voice was frighteningly calm.

"And why didn't you tell me then?"

"I-I was afraid you would break up with me and I... I wanted to be with you. I don't _want _to be gay." Only once the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid they'd sounded.

"You don't want to be gay" she repeated, a bitter sarcasm clear in her voice. "So, what – you thought you could just stop? By staying with me?"

I looked at her and her face was a picture of fury. I didn't dare answer.

"You know what, Edward? I came over here feeling all guilty, to tell you that I kissed someone when you were gone. I don't know what came over me, but... I felt lonely and generally shitty because not only you were away, but you'd been acting kind of strange for over a month before you went to Brazil, and you would never tell me why... or even admit it... and I... well, you have no idea how I felt. Anyway... I felt so fucking guilty about cheating on you, even though it was only a kiss... and now? You're telling me you'd been keeping something like that from me for months? That you'd been basically using me as some freakish _straightening therapy_ tool? Didn't you think I should at least have a say on that?"

Before I had a chance to say something – if I knew what to say, anyway – she turned on her heel and left my room, slamming the door.

o()()()o

She wouldn't talk to me at all during the next week. The Hales were away and I was thankful for that. The next Friday, Emmett dragged me to the party at his friend's house. He was talking some nonsense about me needing to catch up with everyone and I was feeling too numb to oppose. I ended up drinking and smoking way too much. I was already quite drunk and sitting by myself in the corner of a room – people had given up on trying to talk to me already awhile before – when I saw Jasper join the party.

_Did Emmett f__ail to mention they were back or was I not paying attention? I wouldn't have fucking come here!_

Nouvelle Vague was oozing through the speakers right next to me.

_...__ever fallen in love with someone_

_ever fallen in love_

_in love with someone_

_ever fallen in love_

_in love with someone_

_you shouldn't've fallen in love with..._

Yeah, I fucking _have_, OK? _Thanks so much for asking._

The irony of the lyrics, combined with my body's unrequested set of reactions to seeing _him_ again after so long, was too much.

_Why did he have to come here? Why did he have to exist? He would ruin me. _

_I could have been happy with Bella. I _had _been happy with her, before he had to appear in my life and ruin everything. _

I stood up to rush away from this room, from this party and from this man I suddenly hated with all my might. But the universe apparently hated me, so as soon as I walked out the door, I heard him call my name.

"Hey, Edward, long time no see. How was Brazil?"

I turned slowly to face him – he was just one step behind me – and when he saw my face, his smile disappeared.

"What's wrong?"

"What's it to you?" – I spat the words at him.

"Hey..." he said in a worried-friendly-reassuring tone, putting his hand on my shoulder, which somehow managed to piss me off even more. All this – the feelings boiling inside of me – were completely irrational and unfair, but I was too drunk and too far gone into my private hell to notice or care.

"Get the fuck off me, Hale!" I yelled, shaking his hand off so violently that he had to catch his balance. I watched several emotions flicker in his expressive eyes– shock, hurt, anger, shame...? and something else – before I turned on my heel and went home, staggering a little.

o()()()o

I woke up the next morning, feeling the shittiest ever. I had a massive hangover and my throat was sore from all the smoking, but these were just minor details.

The shame for being a total prick to Jasper and taking my anger out on him was worse.

The fact that I had no idea how to go on with my life was probably the worst.

I felt like my life was some kind of a stupid joke - like_ I_ was some kind of a stupid joke.

I spent hours lying in my bed and replaying the last weeks in my head. Fortunately, both my parents had to work this Saturday, so the only person bothering me was Emmett - he knocked at my door a couple of times, asking if I needed anything and what was wrong with me. As much as I loved my brother, I really wished he would just leave me the fuck alone.

When my phone rang I felt a pang of irritation that I hadn't switched it off. I looked at the caller's ID and cringed.

"Hi, Bella" I said, expecting a new wave of her justified ire. I felt too guilty to ignore her call though.

"Hi, Edward" there was no anger in her voice, which somehow made me even more anxious. "Are you OK?"

I had to laugh humorlessly at this question. "I'm not"

She sighed. "I'm sorry" she said quietly.

"_You_ are sorry?"

"Yeah. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."

"And I should have told you long ago."

"You should have. But I guess I can understand now why you didn't. I sort of... well, I've been thinking about it a lot since our last conversation and I think I can imagine how you feel – to some extent at least."

I didn't know what to say.

"What I mean is that I forgive you for keeping it from me and I'm sorry for reacting so badly. I know – well I _imagine _how difficult it must be for you."

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it sounds fucking cliché... but do you think we could still be... friends? after that?"

She was silent for a moment and I waited, my heart clenched.

"I think we can" she finally said. "I mean, I still love you and... I think I can learn to stop seeing you in _that _way – you know – and love you just as a friend. I'll need time, but I think, maybe, it won't be that difficult."

"This guy you kissed" I started, wondering if I was crossing a line by asking this question "do you think that maybe..." I trailed off, too nervous to finish the sentence. I really wanted her to find someone she'd be happy with but I didn't know if talking about it right now was OK with her.

To my relief, I heard her laugh lightly.

"I don't know" she said. "Maybe. I feel kind of confused now... I need some time, I guess."

"Mind telling me who it is?"

She was silent for a moment. Ugh. Have I pushed it too far this time?

"It's Jake."

Jacob Black. A Quileute boy, one year younger than us, but plenty mature for his age. Smart. She and Bella had always been pretty good friends.

"Oh. I guess I'm not surprised."

"No? I thought you didn't like him."

"Well, I mean, you guys have always been pretty close, haven't you? I guess I was kind of jealous. But he's a good guy, and he's quite..." I stopped mid-sentence, blushing.

"Hot?" she supplied.

I remained speechless, blushing even more, relieved she couldn't see that. Her next words almost made me fall off the bed.

"Jasper Hale is rather hot, too" she said innocently.

"Wh-what?" I choked out. I was so sure I'd been hiding my feelings well, except for this one moment at first sight, which she hadn't seen.

"I know you well, remember? I've just put a few facts together and – well, am I right?"

I couldn't speak.

She chuckled.

"I take it as a yes"

I still couldn't speak.

"So, are you going to... do something?"

I still couldn't. Fucking. Speak.

"Edward? I'm sorry. Did I freak you out?"

"Seems so" I finally managed to find my voice.

"I guess it seems like, totally weird that I'm asking you such things. But it's OK, you know? I'm getting... over it. And I want you to be happy."

"I don't know if I _can _be happy, Bells" I blurted out, suddenly needing to confide in her. "I don't even think Jasper is... you know -" I couldn't even say the word – "but regardless, I can't... do that."

"I see" she said quietly.

And I knew she did. She knew my background. She knew what I'd been taught to think about "these things".

"Edward?" her voice shook me out of my little reverie.

"Yeah?"

"I've just sent you something by e-mail. Just think about it, OK?"

o()()()o

I opened her message and it was a quote from a book, which I recognized immediately. We both read the _Earthsea Trilogy_ a dozen times, and "Tombs of Atuan" was Bella's favorite.

"Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake. It is not easy. It is not a gift given, but a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one."

I read the three sentences over and over again, my head kind of spinning and a strange feeling growing in my chest.

"_Freedom is a heavy load" -_

_...and it's easier not to pick it up - to follow the rules without questioning them._

"_Freedom is(...) a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake" -_

_...and I'm scared shitless that it will be too great and too strange for me. That I won't cope with it. That – if I give up on the codex I was taught to abide – I will be lost._

"_Freedom is (...) a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one" –_

_...but it can still be __**my **__choice, right?_

I could almost hear something shifting in my brain.

Esme's words came back to me.

"Why would _they_ know what's right while you don't?"

"...I think that's a little miserable..."

"I won't live your life for you. No one will. So no one can tell you how to live it."

I identified the strange feeling in my chest. It was a bitter-sweet, scary, and breathtakingly wonderful feeling of freedom.

I made a choice.

Now I was on my own.

I couldn't expect anyone – any person, any book, any institution – to _tell_ me what was right or wrong. I could ask for advice, but eventually I'd have to figure it out on my own. The responsibility resulting from this fact was enormous and I was sure I'd soon experience the weight of the _heavy load_. But at that particular moment, relief and excitement were my dominant feelings.

I was free.

"Why do you think it would be wrong if you had a boyfriend?" Esme had asked me some weeks earlier.

Why indeed?

I clicked the 'reply' button and sent Bella a message with just two words.

_Thank you._

o()()()o

I was sitting on the passenger seat of Emmett's car, nervous as hell. He'd told me about a party at Hales', evidently without much hope I would join, and had been surprised by my enthusiasm. Now, however, when the high of my epiphany had faded, I was on the verge of backing off. Why had I been so excited about talking to Jasper? I wanted to laugh at my own stupidity.

So what that I finally realized it wouldn't stop the Earth if I had a boyfriend? Coming to terms with that fact wasn't exactly enough to actually have one, was it? There was also a matter of the other party's acceptance – _a tiny, oh-so-easily-dealt-with detail, right, Edward?_

The chances of Jasper being gay were something between 1 to 20 and 1 to 10, depending on which statistics you found more convincing (Yes - I googled it. Of course I did!).

The chances of him being interested in me were even slimmer.

The chances of him wanting to have anything to do with me after my jackass behavior the previous night – even if he _was_ gay and _had been_ interested before – were... I didn't even want to think about it.

_At least you owe him an apology__ for yesterday - _ I kept telling myself. I briefly explained to Emmett that I'd been rude to Jasper on the party the night before and needed to apologize – it was a precaution to prevent myself from giving up on the idea, really. When we arrived, I wasted no time – I didn't want to give myself time for finding excuses.

I saw _him_ chopping something in the kitchen, my heart fluttered like a fucking butterfly, my palms got all sweaty, I bit my lip and marched straight to him.

"Jasper."

He turned around – a huge chopping knife in hand - and looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I wanted to talk to you" I said quickly "to apologize, and... yeah. Please?"

My anxiety was peaking.

"Sure thing, _Masen._" His voice was ironic, but otherwise rather friendly. "What is it?"

I shot a glance around. People were already filling the living room next door – I could see my brother navigating around them and offering drinks – and Rosalie was in the kitchen with us, just across the large table. She was making a salad or something but I saw her peeking at me from the corner of her eye.

_Not a chance._

"Could we, er... go somewhere else? I mean, if it's not a problem..."

_Why the hell __did you think talking to him was a good idea? You should have just apologized and back the fuck off._

Too late.

He shrugged, looking slightly suspicious.

"My room?"

I just nodded and followed him.

_Why. __The. Fuck. Are you doing this to yourself?_

_Too late for this question, __looser. _

_Right__. So what do you do now?_

_You tell him what's up, he tells you to fuck off, you go home._

_And then?_

_You'll think about it then. Baby steps. Deal with this shit first._

"So?" Jasper's voice intruded my internal dialog and I realized we were in his room already. I took a deep breath and spoke quickly, deciding the sooner I get it over with, the better.

"So. I'm really sorry I was such an asshole yesterday. I... ugh... to cut the long story short, I think I've had a..."

_...crush on you? Just leave it, Edward, there's no way in hell you're gonna say that to him._

"...well let's just say I was drunk off my ass... Bella broke up with me a week ago – she had a good reason, by the way – and I kind of took it out on you... All this has been really fucking up my life and I hated it... and I – yeah...felt like this was _your _fault, you know? Which was a totally absurd thing to think, of course... I mean, just because I've had this crush on you..."

_Ooops... I've __just said it, after all, haven't I?_

I chanced a peek at him – I'd had my gaze fixed securely on his carpet all along my pathetic word-vomit - and he was watching me with the most peculiar expression. Some emotion flickered in his eyes, but I couldn't place it.

"A crush on _me_?" he repeated.

I just nodded. What could I do?

"Why are you telling me this?" – his calm voice, for some reason, made my stomach twist with panic.

_Because I have this tiny amount of hope__ that maybe..._ _you'll reciprocate my feelings?_

_Don't fucking think so._

I said nothing. I could only watch him watching me.

And then he took a step towards me.

My breathing hitched.

I had no idea what my face was revealing.

His eyes narrowed and I finally deciphered the expression on his face.

Ire.

"I said why the fuck are you telling me this, Masen?"

My heart sunk and I couldn't force a word through my mouth. My throat felt like Death Valley at 2 p.m.

_I fucking told you you shouldn't tell him, you fucking idiot__!_

"You thought I'm – what?" he said angrily, his hands balling into fists.

"I – I'll just go" I managed to choke out and turned on my heel, heading for the door.

Jasper grabbed me by the wrists and the next thing I know I was facing him again, his face dangerously close to mine... furious... and beautiful. My heart stuttered and then started again at a doubled pace.

"Not so easy" he hissed.

At that, I felt my cheeks heating up. The shame and misery and confusion I was feeling suddenly all gave way to anger. What the hell was he thinking? Yeah, I'd probably freaked him out with my unexpected confession but _this _was over the line. I struggled against his grip on my wrists, but he was stronger.

"What?" I snapped. "You wanna beat me up now? You didn't like what I said - fair enough. I get it. Now just let me fucking go!"

He ignored me.

"Why did you tell me?" he repeated his question. "Did you think I would be... interested?" Something flickered in his eyes again and he looked almost as if he was trying to hold back a laughter.

Great.

"Because if you did think so... well, you were right" he continued, finally letting go of my wrists.

_What?_

_You've got to be freaking kidding me._

"Not funny, Hale" I seethed, turning towards the door when he stopped me again, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey" he said, smirking at me for a change. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

"Couldn't help what?" I all but yelled this time. This whole situation was really becoming surreal.

"Making a little fun of you. Sorry, Edward" he said innocently. I didn't have the time to react because suddenly, his arms were around my waist and his face just inches from mine.

"What the hell are you do..." I started angrily, but immediately I lost my train of thoughts, my mind a confused chaos and my body reacting to Jasper's touch on its own accord. My heartbeat could probably be heard in the living room downstairs. Only it wouldn't, because his was even louder.

His face was neither furious nor mocking anymore. His eyes were burning into mine, the unique shade of hazel looking more like gold at this proximity. I blinked, struggling to understand what was actually going on here.

"Let me get this straight – " I tried again, wanting to have some confirmation that this wasn't just my brain playing tricks.

"Definitely _not _straight" he murmured, but before I could laugh at the pun, his lips were on my face and my laughter turned into a gasp. He licked his way to my ear and whispered "I've wanted to do this for soooo long."

o()()()o

Some hour later, I'm sitting on Jasper's sofa, wearing his boxers and jeans – we both needed a change of pants after a dry hump session on his bed. Jasper himself is sitting next to me, his long legs resting on my lap and his eyes smiling while he listens to my childhood memories. After thoroughly humping each other to oblivion, we're now thoroughly getting to know each other's life story.

His mum dreams of at least one of her kids becoming a doctor as well – just like my dad, and just like him, she's hoping in vein, it seems. Rosalie has wanted to be a car mechanic ever since she was six. The very idea of the delicate, blond beauty, always wearing perfect make-up, digging elbow-deep under the vehicle's hood, makes me snicker.

"I can just picture Emmett standing there, handing her tools she requests and gawking at her ass when she bends over the engine" – I say and Jasper starts to laugh as well.

"Hey – that's exactly how it looked like last time he came over and she took his Jeep under scrutiny!"

He explains that after some persuasion from their parents, Rose decided to go to college and major in engineering. "College diploma won't stop you from being a mechanic if that's what you want to do, but will make other options open for you as well" – he mimics their father's voice.

Jasper wants to be a psychologist and when I tell him that's my plan as well, he chuckles.

"We'll make a really fucked-up couple, you know?" he says, grinning.

"I guess. Shall I tell you what you think?"

"Shall _I_ tell you how you feel?" he shoots back, and we laugh again.

"I like the word 'couple', though" I say after a moment, leaning closer to him, lifting my hand and tucking a lock of blond hair behind his ear. His eyes grow very warm – hazel-gold, with intricate patterns of lighter gold. Fascinating. I get lost in them, in the sensation of his fingers entwined with mine, his other hand touching my cheek, his breath on my lips... _his _lips on mine. I'm still not hundred per cent convinced this is really happening but anyway...

There's no feeling of wrongdoing, no guilt, no shame. There's peace and sheer happiness of the moment. There's a feeling of being myself again - at last.

There's a knock on his bedroom's door and all the feelings give in to a sudden impulse of panic. I yank my face away from his as I hear Rosalie's voice ("Jazz?") and then Emmett's ("Jasper? is Edward with you?"). Amusement replaces panic in some small fraction of my brain as I realize the second meaning of the phrase, which my brother has no idea of... yet.

I look at Jasper with what is probably a mixture of anxiety, amusement and apology in my eyes, and he nods, understanding. He lets go of my hand and moves away from me so that there's a decent distance between us on the sofa as he yells "Yeah, come in" and the door opens (_Jeez, it was unlocked all the time, while we... yeah I guess neither of us was really capable of giving a shit at that time...)._

Rosalie comes in – Emmett right on her heels – and I know that our facade doesn't fool her one bit as her eyes travel from our flushed faces to my legs in Jasper's too long jeans, to his disheveled bed and back to us and I can see that goddamn women's intuition look as I meet her gaze.

And suddenly, my panic is nowhere to be found, and I just grin at her like a fucking idiot. She smiles back and shifts her gaze to her brother.

"Jazz..."

"What's up, Rose?"

"Well, nothing much, really... oh yes, Emmett was worried about Edward, right, Em?"

"Yeah" my brother says. "Just wanted to check if you guys didn't get into a fight or some shit after all."

To that, I can't stifle a giggle, shaking my head, and the confusion I see on his face just makes me burst into uncontrolled laughter. I glance at Jazz and he's laughing, too, and I think "oh, fuck it" as I hold out my hand to him and he takes it. I look back at Em, managing to say "hell we're not" in between bursts of laughter, and the look on his face...

It's a pained expression of someone who's trying to solve a complicated mathematical equation but can't remember how to add up 2 and 2. I try to stop laughing – honestly wanting to talk to him some more - but fail, not able to say a single word, my head falling on Jasper' shoulder, and poor Emmett just stands there, still frozen with that most comical expression on his face.

"Come-on Em, I'll... explain" – Rosalie is giggling, too. She pushes his large form out of the room, winks at me, blows a kiss to Jazz and closes the door behind her.

o()()()o

So. This work sprouted from my own private freedom-related epiphany. I'm neither male nor gay but otherwise have lots in common with Edward :)

If you read up to this point and didn't get too bored, please leave me a word. What did you like about my little story? What did you not like? It's my first +- fully fledged story and I'm very interested in getting feedback!

Oh and I'm sorry if my English sucked a little but it's a foreign language to me, so... you know.


	2. Brothers in Arms

"Freedom" chapter 2 – Brothers in Arms

Twilight doesn't belong to me. My characters _are _mine, but their names and all recognizable features belong to Stephenie Meyer.

AN: Thank you so much (!) to each and everyone who reviewed my original one-shot, which now got promoted to be the first chapter of a longer story :) It took me long ass time but here is the second one. I hope you like it. I'm really-really nervous, too.

_Emmett __Masen_

"My brother is... my brother is..." I was mumbling, more to myself than to Rosalie, who was watching me with a rather amused expression.

"Gay" she offered after I stopped mid-sentence for the fifth or sixth time. "That's the word you're looking for, darlin'. G-A-Y. You've heard it before."

I scoffed at her, frustrated.

"It's not fucking funny, Rose!"

"But it is. Y_ou_'re funny, Em. You're so shocked, if I didn't know better I would think you've just found out your brother is, I don't know, a vampire or something. He's just gay. No big deal."

"You're totally wrong. It isa hell of a big deal."

She narrowed her eyes at me, smile washed off her face.

"Oh, is it? You didn't seem to have a problem with _my _brother being gay. Or has something changed in that matter?" she asked coldly and now I was almost amused. She's cuter than ever when she is in her _insult my brother and you'd better watch your balls –_Protective Rose mode. I can totally relate to how she feels about Jasper – after all, I have a twin as well – but still, it's funny to watch her reacting like that.

At the moment, however, I wasn't in the mood for amusement... I had some serious shit on my mind.

I sighed.

"That's not it, babe" I said, thinking about the day she'd told me Jasper was gay. My mind has actually a habit of wandering back to that day, like, often... I'm pretty sure I'll remember it for the rest of my life.

For a very different reason.

o()()()o

During those first weeks of our relationship, Rose and I were very busy getting to know each other –thoroughly – in every aspect. OK, in _almost _every aspect. She is the most amazing girl I've ever met. She has a razor-sharp sense of humor, she listenes to great music, she is smart as hell... she even knows _everything _about cars and engines, for fuck's sake! ... and God she is gorgeous. It was taking more self-control I'd ever thought I had to keep my hands off certain parts of her perfect body. But I had to, right? I mean, it would be a fucking disrespect if I touched her like I really wanted to.

I quickly developed a habit of wearing loose jeans and big jumpers . It was kinda necessary to both endure and hide the fact that my dick was almost permanently ready for action whenever Rosalie was within a few meters radius – which was most of the time.

That memorable day, practicing self-control was particularly difficult. We were alone in Rosalie's house–strictly speaking, in her bedroom. Her family was out of town and they weren't expected back until late evening. Impossibly, Rose managed to look even more stunning than usually. She was sitting next to me on the sofa, talking... about something... and I was struggling to understand what she was saying because her skirt was riding dangerously high on her thighs - and somehow that fact made her words sound like a foreign language I couldn't make out a word of. I gasped, trying – really trying – to take my eyes off the shadow covering the space between the _just so slightly parted _legs.

It seemed like my gaze was just glued there and un-gluing was unfeasible.

I attempted to cover my gasp with a cough but the Aymara – or Sanskrit –or Hungarian - or whatever strange language she was using – speech stopped abruptly. Her hand was under my chin then, lifting it up, helping my gaze to finally unglue itself from her thighs and travel higher... only to land on her cleavage. Now _that_ didn't help one bit with my struggle for comprehension.

"Emmett?" she started again and I was glad I finally recognized a word. My name, if I remembered correctly. "Emmett... (foreign language..._ this cleavage is just fucking taunting me)_... listening... (foreign language again_... I can see a tiny bit of black lace... bra?... sticking from under her shirt. If I could dug my fingers underneath for just one second...)..._me?"

There was an edge to her voice, I could hear it even though I still couldn't make sense of the sentence. With an almost herculean effort, I finally managed to take my eyes off her cleavage to meet her own.

_Is she pissed off__ with me? She probably should... _

_Oh, fuck my life._

I need to just sit on my hands immediately before they do what _they _feel like doing without my permission. And they feel like ripping Rose's clothes off as fast as physically possible. They also feel like squeezing my crotch to relieve some of the tension her gaze has just doubled there.

_If there's one thing I know, the way she's looking at me is __a 100% pure lust._

I make a move to actually sit on my hands but instead, completely against my so called free will, they land on Rose's tits.

I freeze.

_Is she... will she..._

She fucking _moans. _

I groan and my lips crush to hers. Completely ignoring the red 'danger' sign flashing in the conscious part of my brain.

She tangles her fingers in my hair and climbs my lap, grinding deliberately against my hard on.

_Oh for all the fucks in the fucking world._

I clutch at her hips, stilling her movements, and it's excruciatingly painful to do so.

"Rose" I gasp, clinging desperately to the last, shredded bits of my self-control. "I... stop, coz I... won't be able... to stop."

The large grin on her face is wicked.

"Shut up" she whispers against my lips before shoving her tongue down my throat.

And I do. There's only so long you can fight against your raging hormones.

So I stop struggling with them, stop thinking whatsoever, instead returning Rose's kisses with fervor and moving my hands down her hips onto those fuck-hot thighs and then up... and further up... exploring and charting the completely new but oh-so-welcoming territory.

Some time later we are lying on that sofa, completely spent, disheveled and partially naked, Rosalie's head on my chest and my arms around her. She hasn't said a word since she came on my fingers screaming my name - but she's quietly humming some happy melody, letting me hope she's not regretting what we did.

Am I?

Hell no, I can't find a tiniest bit of regret in me even though... I guess I should, right?

According to all I've been taught during my upbringing, we've done something very wrong.

_Sin._

She has done something wrong.

_A girl who allows a guy to be sexual with her before they are married shows the lack of self-respect._

_I _have done something even worse.

_A guy who __starts a sexual relationship with a girl before marrying her, proves his lack of respect and love for her._

Whoa, whoa, wait. Now _that _is a fucking bullshit of the year. If there's one thing I'm sure about, it's the fact I have a shitload of respect for Rose for absolutely everything she is. And I'm totally, head over heels – OK, over dick, _too_ – in love with her.

So... let's back up for a moment and sort the facts. It's not like I haven't already learned to question some of the Catholic teachings which I had grown to accept before. When I was fourteen, my body became one big, pimply and sweaty battlefield of hormones... and I _had_ to become close friends with my right hand in order not to get crazy. I went through a hell of guilt about it, trying desperately to restrain myself, then failing, then going to confession about it and trying again... using tons of water for cold showers and running miles and miles a day, then feeling I was about to explode anyway, walking around with a throbbing erection that wouldn't go the fuck down, being a complete bitch and taking my sexual frustration out on everyone in the vicinity... then finally giving up again and jacking off like a horny, half-crazy from hormones teenage boy I was... then crying with guilt and anger and frustration for my weakness.

After almost three months of that I rebelled.

During my private evening prayer – I'd done them every night since I was eight – I knelt down and spoke to God.

_Look, I'm really__ sorry for jer- masturbating. I've been told it annoys You, even though I don't really understand why. It's not like I'm hurting anybody by doing it, right? And see, it's when I don't do it that I end up hurting everybody around because of all that tension I can't let out and can't deal with. So I figured in the end it's better if I just do it when I have to. So, yeah, sorry again, but it's probably gonna be, like, every night or so. If you think it's really that bad, then please give me the strength to stop, because God – well, You know, I don't have it. _

God didn't (I know coz I experimentally went on a wanking abstinence a couple of times and it was always as bad as before).

So after a couple of weeks I decided the Church must had gone overboard with the jerking-off ban and I just stopped worrying about it.

Now I was lying in my girlfriend's room with her beautiful, almost nude self in my arms, contemplating whether the Church could be wrong about more things.

_What could be so wrong about pleasuring each other when you were in love, married or not?_

Rose stopped humming and turned her face to look at me with such a sweet expression I couldn't help the ridiculous grin spreading across my face. In a split second, I decided to Scarlett O'Hara the Catholic sex ethics issue and think about it another day.

It soon turned out I'd have some more things to think about.

We lied on her bed for hours, talking about all kinds of things, from serious to silly and back. At some point, Rose was telling me about how her parents had decided to move out of Austin.

"The shit I'd been through with Royce was actually one of their biggest arguments in favor of moving" she said, referring to the monster who was her ex-boyfriend, and who almost...

_Stop right here, Em. Stop thinking about it right fucking now, or the next thing you know you'll be flying down to __Texas to rip this son-of-a-motherfucker's throat off. As much as he deserves it, that really isn't the best idea._

"...besides, Jazz had been through a pretty nasty break-up... all in all, my folks thought it'd be healthy for both of us to change the surroundings."

"As in, some bitch broke his heart?" I asked, mostly to just occupy my mind with something that wasn't the Royce monster. It worked. I remembered how Ursula had made a complete wrack of me a year before and felt sympathy for Jasper at the thought he'd gone through something like that as well.

"A fucking bitch all right. His name was Peter" Rose said, her expression turning into a scowl.

I blinked. Twice.

_Oh._

"Jasper's gay" she said lightly, but her gaze became a little weary.

_Yeah, __thanks for clarifying..._

So...

I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised... OK, that's bullshit, actually. I was _floored._

I liked Jasper very much. The beginning of our acquaintance had been... strange, so to speak. Our first conversation, just before my first date with Rose, seemed more like an _interrogation_ and for about a week after that, I had an impression he was watching my every move around her, which was a little fucking creepy (Not that I can blame him. If it wasn't for him, Rose could have been raped by the Royce motherfucker... _OK, I really, really shouldn't be thinking about it_).

Eventually Jazz must have decided I wasn't the worst thing that could happen to his sister, and we'd gotten along great ever since.

But he never mentioned...

"He never said anything to me?" I said and it sounded more like a question.

Rosalie shrugged. "Maybe it never came up."

"So is he..." I asked the first thing that came to my mind "will he be all right with you outing him to me?"

"I'm not outing him. He _is _out. " she said matter-of-factly.

"So how come I've never heard about it?"

"I don't know, have you talked to him about any personal things?"

_Thinking about it... no, I haven't. Sports, cars, travelling, homework, __funny things Rose did or said when they were kids, random everyday-shit... never personal stuff, really. _

"Well... no, but..."

"Well, it's not like it's the first thing he says when he introduces himself" She smirked. "_Hi, I'm Jasper Hale and I'm gay. Nice to meet you. What's your name?"_

I snickered.

"Right."

"He's never kept it secret though. Should it come up in a conversation, he'd tell you. But I guess he..." she stopped mid-sentence as if she'd just thought better of something she was about to say.

"What?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

o()()()o

"So would you mind telling me, what it is, Em?" Rose's voice shakes me out of my reverie.

_Isn't it obvious__?_

Quite honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't got it yet. She always seems to know what I think like she's seeing directly into my head. It's almost scary sometimes. And the weirdest thing is that it works the other way, too... See, I'm generally not a very intuitive person. It's my brother who always appears to know what everybody's thinking just by their body language or whatever... a know-all, mind-reading fucker. I am more of an _I won't guess what you're thinking unless you actually tell me _type of guy.

But with Rose... we just _get _each other without needing many words. Usually.

"He's my brother, not yours. He wasn't brought up like Jasper and you, with your liberal parents and lesbian aunties and... he'll have so much shit to deal with, you know? Being a gay Catholic... according to the Church you can't have a same-sex relationship because it's sinful! It may be fucked up... but that's what we've been taught. Now he'll have all this guilt to cope with... he'll... I just... oh, _shit_..."

I get incoherent but I also finally see a flash of understanding in her eyes.

"Oh." She says. "That... Aren't you exaggerating a little though? _You _are not exactly following the Catholic ethics and I don't see you suffering from guilt all the time" she smirks as her eyes flicker towards the box of condoms that's still lying on her bedside table after we opened it earlier that night.

I don't smile back.

"He's not me either, Rose. I take things easy but he's always over-thinking every shit seven fucking ways through. He's just too serious about everything."

"He seemed happy with Jazz though"

"Yeah..." that _is _true. If I'm honest, I haven't seen my little bro looking so happy for... well, long time.

"Yeah" I repeat. "He did. But will he tomorrow? I don't know. It's such a big thing, and it's _Edward. _I already told you he's over-thinking every freaking thing... and he'll have our family to deal with, too. _Jesus..._ that will be tough."

I realized I was walking back and forth in the small space of her bedroom, feeling trapped somehow.

"Your parents love you both to pieces, I know that. It's not like they're gonna go all medieval on him if he comes out, right?"

"I don't know. I don't know. Shit. Mom is surely gonna give him a hard time. It's not like she'll kick him out, of course. But she _will_ freak out... and it's surely not going to help with the guilt situation"

"Well maybe you're over-thinking things too much now. Just relax a little, OK? No point in worrying in advance. Yeah?"

o()()()o

Edward was wearing a shit-eating grin when we left the Hale house after saying goodbye to our... sweethearts... (_Jesus. Was that really... real?_) at three something in the morning. He really did seem happy and relaxed. I'd watched him as he spoke quietly to Jasper just before we parted, all hand-holding and shit, and it was kinda weird and kinda nice. He gave me a dirty look when he caught me staring but seemed too giddy to actually get pissed off.

He stumbled on his way to the car and I noticed that his jeans were ridiculously long for him.

"What the fuck is it you're wearing, dude? You wanna get yourself killed by falling over your own pants?" I asked as I set the engine on and immediately felt stupid, realizing I must have sounded like a vulgar version of an over-protective granny. _Shit, _I muttered to myself. I so needed to get a grip.

I glanced apologetically at him, expecting to hear a snarky response any second, but instead I found out he was looking rather embarrassed, too.

"It's, er, Jasper's jeans" he said uncomfortably.

And because my brain was really low on free RAM with all the brotherly-emotional shit going on in it, I managed to ask "why the hell would you wear his jeans?" about half a second before the obvious answer occurred to me and I burst into laughter.

"I'm not telling you details, you perv!" he said, laughing along.

Now that made me flinch a little.

"I'm not interested in those details, _you _perv" I quipped – and the hurt I immediately saw on his face made me want to bite my tongue off.

_W__ay to be supportive, Emmett. That was just such a great fucking thing to say to him now. You'd better just shut up for a while because everything you say comes out idiotic at the very best._

"Shit, Edward, I did not mean it like that" I rushed, deciding I couldn't actually stop talking before I fixed the situation.

"What _did _you mean then, huh?" he snapped.

"Well... you're my brother! I don't want to think about... ugh. You know. Would you like _me_ to tell you things Idid with Rose a few hours ago?"

That worked. He laughed, all hurt and tension dissipated from his features.

"Ew" he said. "You've got a point."

We arrived home just then and hopped out of the jeep. Just as he was fumbling for his keys to open the door to the house, I followed a sudden impulse and hugged him tightly to my chest. He patted my back, clearly surprised a little by my unusual display of affection.

"I love you, remember?" I mumbled, letting go off him and feeling completely idiotic for my – yet another – emotional reaction this night. Once again I expected to hear something sarcastic in response.

"Love you too" he said instead, smiling.

o()()()o

It was almost noon when I finally woke up. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, fighting with my usual morning grogginess. And then I was instantly fully awake when I remembered the previous night.

_Edward. Edward and Jasper. Edward __**with **__Jasper. How will it go? Will he find happiness in a relationship of the type he was taught to consider profoundly wrong? What will our parents say? Will he even tell them? When will he tell them? What about all the other problems associated with being gay? What if he wants to have kids? What if some assholes attack him? OK that he can probably deal with... but what if there'll be too many of them? How can I help him with all this situation?_

The thoughts were circulating through my head, chasing one another with such speed I was barely able to register them and in just few seconds I started feeling dizzy. I needed to get a grip. I needed to clear my head before my brain would short-circuit.

I browsed through my mp3 player, knowing there was just about one thing that could help me in a moment like this. A minute later I attached the loudspeakers to the player and set the volume to high. "Roots" just had to be played loud, otherwise there was little fucking point to it. Sunday noon meant my parents were in church and Edward – if he was still sleeping – wouldn't mind being woken up by Sepultura.

I hit 'play' and the famous drums and base and ethnic instruments and Cavalera's growling voice filled my room as I lied back on the bed, closing my eyes. My mind finally relaxed, focusing on the incredibly complex sounds that in my opinion could only be rivaled by classical music. It may seem a screwed-up comparison to many, but heavy metal and classics were the two types of music I listened to most of the time. Plus some jazz, occasionally.

_Jazz._

_Edward._

_Oh, shit._

My mind immediately got back on it's previous track but at least the music helped me keep it under control this time and _think _somewhat clearly rather than letting my thoughts run in dizzying circles.

So, Rose thought I should chill out a little and stop worrying so much. That was easier said than done, though. I did have a tendency to get a little overprotective about my little brother. OK, technically he wasn't my _little_ brother - he was actually some minutes older than me (Mom had a caesarian and they took him out first). I have always been the big and bulky one, while he was much leaner and a little shorter, but this wasn't why I was kinda used to thinking about him as the younger one. It was because there used to be time when I'd actually had to play the big brother role for him.

o()()()o

The whole shit started at the end of our eighth grade, when we were still living in Chicago. He got a  
flu in the middle of the spring and in the worst possible moment, too. The baseball team we were both in was going to play some epic game - hell if I remember who it was with by now - and we were both dying to take part. The competition to get to the main team for the match was fierce and one of the rules the Coach made sure we understood was: miss one practice, and you're out. So despite the fever and pain in the joints, Edward was determined to go. Our parents, of course, had different view of things and ordered him to stay in bed. Edward was frustrated and mad to no end, and so was I. Didn't they realize how important that game was? Were they going to let a stupid flu ruin my brother's baseball career?

You know, thirteen year-olds can be stupider than hamsters sometimes.

That damned afternoon our parents were at work and we were home with our sitter. We concocted a brilliant plan to sneak Edward out of the house and to training. He feigned sleep so that Miss Cope would leave him alone in his room – and once that happened he packed his gear, climbed out the window and run straight to our practice pitch which was just across the road. In the  
meantime, I made her help me look for my trainers that "had to be somewhere in the basement, but I could not find them anywhere." After about half an hour, when I was positive my brother would be out of sight, my shoes made a miraculous re-appearance and I ran to join the team. Our timing was perfect – the practice was just beginning.

Edward made it half-way through the game before passing out.

The ambulance was called, and our parents, and he was taken straight to ER. As we learned much later, he had a fever so high the doctors there were shocked he was still alive. 

The next couple of weeks were a nightmare. I had never before been separated from my brother for longer than a day or two. Now he was in hospital and I wasn't allowed to even see him. Mom and Dad kept telling me he would be fine but I could see desperation in their eyes and I knew something was very wrong. Three days after this damned practice I overheard their conversation – Dad was explaining to Mom that the strong viral infection and high fever, combined with the exertion of the game, caused a severe breakdown of Edward's immune system which led to blood poisoning. They were fighting for his life.

I heard my Mom's sobs and a moment later I realized I was shaking and sobbing myself.

_Fever and infection... combined with the exertion of the game... _

_Fighting for his life._

Stupid kid as I was, I understood what it meant. My brother could _die. _Like, really freaking _die. _And it was my fault because I helped him to get to this fucking training.

Well thank God, he didn't die after all. But it was weeks before he started feeling better and another weeks before he was released home.

And he looked like _shit. _

Before, he had been athletic and fit. Now, he resembled a skeleton covered with grayish skin and he could barely walk for ten minutes before getting too exhausted.

He wasn't in much better condition when the summer ended and we started high school.

New school. New kids. A bunch of 14 year-old, testosterone-loaded boys establishing pecking orders and pack hierarchies. My brother was absolutely fucked. He became a favorite kicking toy for a number of baby-macho assholes and I had to work my socks off for months to _try _keeping the motherfuckers off him. I gathered loads of practice-based knowledge about punches and kicks during those months. But I couldn't be around him 100% of the time.

We should have probably talked to Mom and Dad... and they would have probably found some better school to transfer us to... but we were both too fucking proud for that so none of the adults ever found out.

He gradually got better though, gaining back some weight and strength he'd lost. In January, he started jogging and in March, he took up Thai boxing classes – once a week at the beginning but after a couple of weeks he was training every second day. Another few weeks, and he wasn't as happily approached by the bullies as he'd used to be. By the time we started our sophomore year, nobody was fucking with him anymore.

I could stop my protective hovering over him, and I did, but... old habits die hard, I guess.

o()()()o

There was a knock at my door.

"Em?" I heard Edward's voice breaking through the music.

"Come in" I yelled and he showed up in the doorway. He was still wearing pajamas.

"Did I wake you up?" I asked. "Actually, would be 'bout fucking time."

He shook his head.

"Nope, I woke up long ago, I just couldn't be arsed getting dressed. But I heard what you're playing and you know, every time I listen to them I think of Esme."

I nodded empathically, remembering.

Apparently, Esme was the biggest fan of Sepultura ever. She took Edward and me for their concert when we were fifteen and we both got hooked. That thought, as always, made me laugh. Teenage boys learning to listen to death metal from their auntie... that sure was a rarity. Only Esme and the word 'auntie' combined sounded like an oxymoron anyway. At fifty-something, the woman had dreads down to her waist, run marathons... and listened to metal.

"How is she?" I asked. "How are all of them, actually? It's not like you have fucking said anything since you came back."

"Yeah... sorry, I've been a kind of a wailing little bitch, haven't I?" he said guiltily, running his fingers through his haystack of hair. He leaned his back against the wall – he'd already plopped on my bed without asking .

"They're all good I guess... Well, Carlisle's working twice too much – one of the surgeons from his ward went on maternity leave and the guy who was supposed to cover for her got sick, so uncle C. ends up doing most of her shifts now. But he seems to be doing fine and it isn't supposed to last long anyway. Esme's great, I met some of her students – they didn't know I was related to her in any way - and I swear she's like a fucking God to them" he laughed, shaking his head. "It was almost ridiculous to listen to them all crooning about her. But I can hardly blame them. She's the best."

"Alice was in the jungle doing fieldwork all the time I was there, so I didn't get to see her, unfortunately. Cynthia's thinking about going back to the States for college when she finishes high school."

We spent the next hour like that, Edward telling me about his time in Brazil and me telling him some local stories from the time he'd been gone. It was a huge relief to be able to talk to him normally again – we used to spend weekend mornings like that often before but recently he'd been a wailing bitch indeed and would shut me out every time I tried to really talk to him. It had been a pain in my brotherly ass, seeing him like that and not being able to do anything about it.

Apparently, Jazz was a good thing for him, I decided.

I told him so and snickered when he blushed like a girl.

"Yeah, about that" he said, still blushing and avoiding my eyes. "Thanks for last night, Em. I mean, this whole shit happened so quickly and I didn't really think about the best way to clue you in, so... if you freaked out and went all awkward on me afterwards, I would have probably also freaked out eventually."

Well... I _did _freak out a little last night, yeah? But he really didn't need to know about it.

**AN:** I'm just like Emmett – I won't know what you're thinking unless you actually tell me... review, please?


	3. Fiddler on the Roof

A/N: This chapter was difficult for me to write. What I'm doing here is trying to deal with some things I can't _really _understand well… anyway, let's see how it worked out.

**Disclaimer: **in case you're wondering... Twilight ain't mine. Seriously :)

/\

_You may ask, "How did this tradition__ get started?" I'll tell you! _

_I don__'t know. But it's a tradition!_

_And because of our traditions... every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do._

Tevye the Milkman in _Fiddler on the Roof_

/\

/\

I didn't adjust the stand right and my bike made a rattling noise when it fell down on the Hales' driveway. I couldn't care less though.

I was praying Jasper would be home. We hadn't planned to meet that day and I couldn't remember what his plans _had_ been.

I pressed the bell and the door opened in a few seconds.

"Rosalie, hi" – I said, my voice sounding odd and unfamiliar. "Is Jasper...?"

"In his room" she said, stepping back so that I could get into the house. "Are you OK?"

I only managed to mumble some nonsense ("OK, thanks") to her before practically sprinting to Jazz's door.

He was lying on his bed, reading a book. His eyes snapped up to my face and I realized I hadn't even knocked.

"Sorry..." I started but he was already in front of me, his hands cupping my face.

"Jesus, Edward. What happened?"

I couldn't really speak. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and closed my eyes, burying my face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him like a drowning man to a life vest. When I'd slammed the door behind me and raced away from my house some 20 minutes ago, I had one thing on my mind that was holding me together: find Jazz. It was like a reflex reaction, an instinct. I wasn't thinking about what I expected from him, what I wanted him to do or say, I just needed his presence, immediately.

Now that I got to him, I felt his arms holding me tight and his lips on my hair, my mind was struggling to find comfort in that but instead I felt like I was... disintegrating.

He was holding me but how would he take away the pain? What could he do, really?

I started panting. Something was squeezing my chest and my lungs couldn't expand enough to take in the amount of air I needed, no matter how hard I tried. I fidgeted in Jasper's arms – I had to give my chest some more space for deep breaths.

He seemed to sense what I needed and loosened his embrace, his arms still encircling me but less tightly so.

"Shhh" he shushed me, running his hands along my back and kissing my sweaty forehead. "I've got you."

I was so fucking grateful he didn't ask any questions anymore. I couldn't speak right now. My throat was knotted and my guts were knotted, and my brain was one motherfucking Gordian Knot, and every thought was getting lost in its twists before I could make sense of it. I didn't know what I was thinking anymore. I didn't know... I didn't know anything anymore.

I was so fucking grateful he didn't say "It's OK."

o()()()o

I take deep breaths, trying to concentrate on the simple task of inhaling and exhaling.

I tighten my arms around Jasper's waist, trying to focus on the very fact that he's here.

His heartbeat is steady against my frantic one.

His palms are slowly running up and down my back.

His smell surrounds me and I let it take over my mind, clouding my knotted, chaotic thoughts until they become a white noise in my head, and finally -

the pressure on my chest lessens a little – and it's a little easier to breathe.

"I've got you now" he repeats in a whisper, and I feel a shiver run down my spine as his lips and breath touch my ear – a reflex, involuntary reaction to his touch.

I inhale deeply again and my fucked up brain finally associates the bitter-sweet smell of Jasper's body with what it usually associates it with.

Sex.

My guts tighten a little more but with a different kind of tension.

His lips are still over my ear and his fingertips gently caress the skin of my lower back under the hem of my shirt. It's meant to be a calming, soothing gesture but as I focus on it I feel goose bumps arising under his fingers and warmth spreading through my abdomen and downwards.

The Gordian Knot is still there in my brain and I'm still confused and lost. I haven't regained the ability to think but it seems like I _feel _everything with doubled intensity.

And I feel my anger transforming to excitement.

I feel my guilt transforming to want.

I feel my despair transforming to lust.

I feel my confusion transforming into realization - there is just one thing I need right now. No, there is one _person _I need now and that person is holding me in his arms, but I need him closer, closer and _more._

"Jazz..." I whisper-groan as my hands slide down from his waist and I grab his ass with my fingers, pulling him closer.

He gasps into my ear and his ministrations on my back stop as he jerks his head back, looking me in the eye with a slightly shocked expression.

"Edward?"

But I'm in no place to explain things since my mind still isn't capable of forming one coherent thought, so I speak in actions, hoping he'll understand and accept.

He does.

When I crush my lips to his, his hands travel up along my back and tangle in my hair. I kiss him fervently, desperately, wanting to lose myself completely, to melt into him and stop existing as a separate being.

Someone – probably Rosalie – puts a loud music on downstairs. Or has it been on all the time?

Jazz groans into my mouth but then breaks the kiss and looks at me, panting, eyes hooded and almost black with need.

"Are you sure, Edward? You'd better fucking be coz I'm not holding myself responsible for my actions if you push me any further."

His husky voice goes straight to my groin, but his words bring another wave of guilt. What I'm doing is not fair to him because of course I'm _not _sure. Will I ever? If anything, I'm maybe two hundred and fifty times more confused now that I have ever been before. But I don't want to think about it now.

No, I _can't _think about it now...

"Please, Jasper" I hate the vulnerability, the begging note in the tone of my voice but seconds later I don't care anymore. I don't because _he _doesn't seem to care anymore and his lips are on mine again, his fingers pulling at my hair and digging into my flesh, pulling me closer, and I'm so turned on it hurts. Absolutely fucking literally.

His left hand snakes down my body and strokes me through my jeans...

No one has ever done that to me before.

He moves his hand from my dick to my hip – and I grumble in protest – and his chuckle tickles the skin on my neck – and he walks me backwards until the backs of my thighs hit something soft – and suddenly we are falling, and I'm lying on his couch, and he's lying on top of me, his body pressed against mine.

The music from downstairs grows louder – whoever's playing it must be in the mood for nineties because I can hear Heather Nova's sensual voice, adding to the high I'm feeling.

_I want you to come, I want you to come,_

_I want you to come walk this world with me._

I laugh breathlessly at the double meaning of the lyrics but then he thrusts his hips against mine and I stop hearing anything else than our ragged breaths and groans.

Gone and forgotten is the time when _friction_ was just a boring term from a physics textbook.

His thrusts become faster and I clutch at him tightly, digging my fingers into his skin and lifting my hips off the couch to meet his. There's too much fabric between us and I hate it, I want to feel his skin on mine all the way, I want to fucking _weld _us together so that there's absolutely nothing between our bodies. I want to get our clothes the fuck off but sadly, it isn't possible. It would require loosening my grip on him, putting some centimeters of air between us, a momentary loss of his weight on my body, a separation that is just not going to happen. It's un-fucking-feasible.

So we stay like that, with all the unwanted layers between our skins, rocking and thrusting and pulling and pushing and -

My toes start to curl and I feel the wave of heat raising low in my stomach and spreading out, and then I hear myself moaning his name as I shudder and turn into a trembling heap of pure bliss.

Jasper thrusts against me once more, then shivers and mumbles something unintelligible into the crook of my neck and we lay, panting and spent and holding each other tightly... almost convulsively.

And this is when the tears come.

o()()()o

The past three months had definitely been the happiest in my life ever. _The glory of first love and all that..._The more time I spent with Jasper, the more I got to know him, the more just... enthralled with him I was becoming.

See, I had always been the _struggling with reality_ type of person – every day of my life, in every fucking situation I was able to find something to frustrate, obsess, or at least worry about.

Not Jasper.

He was so at ease with the world – and with his own self – it was unreal. Not to say he was never frustrated or worried about anything, of course. But he had this philosophy of "fix the things you can fix, don't obsess over those you _can't_ do anything about, and don't make a big deal out of a small one." This _let it be _attitude of his sometimes managed to actually piss me off to no end, but most of the times, he was making me feel more peaceful than I had ever remembered to be. And this was just one thing...I'm not going to even try and describe how fucking perfect we fit together - I would have to get cheesier than you could ever believe.

It had been one of the most confusing times in my life, too.

I mean, I was in love with a _guy_, for crying out loud. My mind was still struggling to adjust to the idea – yeah, here it goes, me struggling with reality - even though it didn't feel wrong anymore... mostly. Well. It didn't except when things were getting... hotter between us physically. The humping session we had that first night after my Big Epiphany was pure ecstasy and joy, shooting stars and singing angels but...

The second time – which was only one day after, to be honest – I found myself trapped under him on his bed, with my blood boiling and a very uncomfortable situation in my pants, I felt something was definitely wrong, and I balked.

A moment later, I was back to a sitting position, panting and flushed and totally freaked out.

"I'm sorry, Jazz" I mumbled in confusion and embarrassment, my thoughts sprinting and trying to make sense of whatever the fuck had just happened. "I..."

"It's OK" he said, a little breathless, and I felt his hand on my cheek but I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye just yet. "I can wait. I understand."

My eyes snapped up to his at that statement.

"You do?" Because I sure as hell did _not._

He laughed, though it sounded somewhat forced. "I guess you're not the only one who's freaking out at the beginning."

Was it the homo thing still troubling me? I thought I'd already made up my mind about that.

Or maybe just the rational part of it?

"You know – " Jazz rubbed his face, then adjusted his pants with a pained hiss that made my cheeks burn "I had it easy. My Mom has this best friend she's known since they were both wearing nappies. So, Heather is gay and she and her partner Lydia lived like two streets from us back in Austin. They have always been our favorite aunties, used to babysit us a lot when we were kids, and then they got their own two kids six years ago. Oh God, that was fun - " he groaned and then laughed. "My Mom went totally crazy about the babies, you should have seen her... I was seriously thinking she was going to force Dad to make another one..."

"Anyway, I always knew there were other configurations apart from _a girl loves a boy and a boy loves a girl _so it didn't feel strange or shocking to realize I wasn't a _love a girl _type of boy myself. I never really had a problem with that. I got some shit from some assholes and a stab in the heart from my first boyfriend when he damped me, but I've always felt alright about who I was. For you, I figure it must be all new and weird..."

I listened to him like he was telling me some kind of a fairytale (no fucking pun intended, OK?) about a world where everything was just... easy.

Why couldn't it be easy for _me_?

o()()()o

I can't even remember the last time I really cried. It must have been years ago, when I was a little kid. Not that I ever believed in any kind of boys-don't-cry macho shit. No, it just isn't my way of dealing with emotions.

Now, I'm lying in Jasper's arms, crying the shit out of myself. I cry from anger and guilt and pain, and more guilt. And more anger.

He's holding me until my sobs stop, my tears dry, and my nose starts running instead. When I start groping my pockets for tissues, he hands me a box from his nightstand.

"Tell me?" he asks softly.

And I do.

o()()()o

The day started well enough. When I went down to the kitchen in the morning I found Emmett fixing his breakfast there.

"Morning, cocksucker" he greeted me cheerfully. We'd called each other all sorts of dirty names ever since we were kids, at least when we were alone. Once he started calling me a cocksucker I knew for certain he was completely cool about my orientation.

"I haven't even sucked any cock, pussy-licker" I quipped. His self-pleased grin was a definite sign I'd reminded him of something I really wouldn't want to hear about.

"Then you definitely should, coz maybe you'll get yours sucked in return and trust me, it feels fucking awesome." His forehead creased. "Thinking about it, though, it must actually _taste_ pretty disgusting..."

"Jeez" I muttered. Were we really having this conversation?

"Did you just say jiizz?"

"J-E-E-Z, Em. As in: Jesus Christ, are we really having this conversation? You sure you're straight yourself, brother? You seem very preoccupied with cocks and jiizz and how it tastes like..."

He threw his head back in laughter. "You can ask Rose if you have any doubts. Of course I'm straight, how couldn't I? Male body is fucking gross, with a sole exception of mine obviously."

"You don't know a shit."

"You have a fucked-up taste, little brother."

I snorted. "_Little brother_! Right, big sis" I countered with a grin. He absolutely hated when I called him that so I usually didn't, but it was just too good opportunity to miss.

"Don't. Fucking. Call. Me. That" he huffed, pissed off just as I knew he would be, so I started to laugh.

I stopped when he threw an eggshell at me and the yolk-smeared stuff landed on my shirt.

"Motherfucker!"

"Fatherfucker."

We continued in this style until we heard the key turning in front door's lock. Mom entered the kitchen a few minutes later and we rose from the table to give her kisses on the cheeks. We both had to bend down now to do that, she was so much shorter.

"Morning, boys" she said, ruffling our hair playfully. "Any food left for your old lady? I'm starving!"

"Sorry, Mom, Em ate everything. I only managed to get some sorry leftovers because I got up early."

Mom laughed while she put some new bread in the toaster and Em showed me the finger when she wasn't looking.

"I saw that, Emmett" she said in a stern voice, turning back to us, and my brother immediately took the bait – I swear, he could be so silly sometimes...

"How could you see..." he complained and she smirked.

"I didn't. But I know you well enough, boy, and you just proved me right."

Emmett was embarrassed. I was entertained. Mom looked actually kind of resigned. As much as she didn't like it, she knew better than to think we would give up on vulgarity.

Em left soon after that, to play soccer with some of his friends and I felt immediately nervous, remembering my mission for today. I'd woken up with a clear resolution that I was going to come out to my Mom today. Dad was away for the weekend so I wouldn't have to deal with them both at the same time – I preferred it like that. I sensed talking to her would be more difficult than talking to him, which was why I wanted to get it done first.

To be honest, the thought made my stomach churn. I was so _not _sure if this was a good idea. But all these weeks, hiding something so important about myself from my parents made me feel sick. And also kind of... rebellious.

I was in that state of mind while my Mom ate breakfast and we made small talk. In my usual fashion, not wanting to delay things anymore, I got right to the point just after she finished her coffee.

"Mom, I've got to tell you something, all right? I'm gay."

That was it. The words were out of my mouth and there was no turning back. I felt both relieved and absolutely fucking terrified. What had I done? Would it be something I'd regret for the rest of my life?

I watched her, feeling like I was frozen in place. I watched comprehension replacing confusion on her face, and her eyes filling with tears. Then I watched her reach out for me across the small space between our chairs and I felt the hug, but I was still frozen and unable to move a limb, to hug her back. I was sitting stiffly while she sobbed quietly into my chest and ran her fingers through my hair. Then I heard a whispered "Oh, honey. We'll... sort it out somehow. It'll be all right. I'll help you." At that, I felt the ice melt and I hugged her back, too tightly, causing her to gasp.

"Sorry, Mom" I laughed a little under my breath, loosening my embrace.

_Could it really be so __smooth?_

But as she kept repeating that "We'll sort it out", I started feeling somewhat uneasy.

"Edward, I can't fully imagine how difficult it must be for you, but trust me, I'll do everything to help you... we'll find someone to help you."

Now I started freaking out a little. What was she talking about?

"What-what do you mean, Mom?"

"Well" she said softly "there are people out there who help men and women experiencing... homosexual inclinations... to cope with them and live in accord with God's teaching. I'm sure I can find a counselor or maybe a support group for you, so that you can learn how to deal with this..."

She trailed off and I couldn't find my voice for a moment. Suddenly, my life was feeling all surreal again.

"Mom" I started when I finally managed to gather up my thoughts a bit "I don't _want _a support group or anything like that."

"Look, I-I-I I've been doing a hell of a lot of thinking since I realized that I'm... you know..." my throat clenched but I instantly felt angry and decided I wouldn't let myself trip over the simple word anymore- "…gay. And it's actually... well I don't want anyone to try and make teach me how to push my feelings away because I don't – I don't think they are wrong."

"Of course it's not wrong to feel what you feel, Edward, because you can't help it. But..."

"... but it's wrong to act upon that feeling, yeah, I know, I've heard. I've read" I finished for her, unable to suppress the bitterness in the tone of my voice. "But I disagree. I'm in love, Mom. I have a _boyfriend_" my heart sank as I saw her cringe at the word. "And I'm happy. I don't want to change anything."

I looked at her again and her face was... expressionless.

I knew that face. It meant her emotions were so strong and out of control she couldn't process them all at once.

This was bad.

"Mom" I started again but she interrupted me.

"Why did you tell me then?" she asked quietly, shocking the hell out of me once again.

I just gaped at her.

"I thought you told me because you wanted help and God knows I'd like to help you because you need it so much... and now I realize that you just wanted to tell me you decided to stand against everything I believe in... everything I was trying to teach you to believe in?"

Now I could feel my anger building. This was insane.

"Stand against everything you believe in, Mom? How can you even say such a thing? Jesus Christ, did I kill someone? Did I hurt someone? Please tell me, because I don't understand, what is so terribly wrong about wanting to be with a person I'm in love with?

I told you because you're my Mother and this is an important part of who I am and I didn't want to hide it from you anymore! I just... I just want to be happy, OK? Is it so fu... freaking difficult to understand?"

Apparently, it was.

"Happiness is not the most important thing in life, Edward" she said, her voice full of conviction. "Living at peace with God is."

I didn't answer. I didn't trust my voice.

Mom brought her fingers to her temples – her helpless gesture.

"I must have done something really wrong in my life if this is happening to me... to _you. _I must have... broken you somehow. I'm so, so sorry."

I gritted my teeth.

"I'm not broken, Mom!" I yelled.

"Well I suppose you are, Edward, if you think your happiness lies in wrongdoing."

I took a deep breath, desperately trying to regain some composure. I'd known this wouldn't be nice and easy, right? So why was I feeling so fucking hurt and shocked now?

Because it was going worse than I'd anticipated?

Or maybe because deep down at the bottom of my soul I'd believed it _would _just go... well? That she _would _understand?

I took another deep breath before I spoke:

"So please explain to me. What. Is. So. Wrong. About it. Because I told you, I don't understand."

"We were made as a man and a woman, Edward. That's how it's supposed to be. That's what I believe and don't expect me to discuss this with you on rational level because I can't, it just hurts too much" she said and you know what killed me at that moment?

It wasn't the fact she wouldn't accept my love life.

It wasn't that she was judging me, and judging harshly.

It was that fucking pain in her voice.

I heard a whispered "_God, it's like loosing my son..." _and I don't think it was even meant for me to hear but I did anyway.

And I couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't _process _it.

I couldn't...

I ran out of the house like my life depended on it.

I had one thing on my mind that was holding me together: find Jazz.

o()()()o

We were lying in complete silence for what felt like hours until Jasper started quietly.

"I wish I could _do _something..." he said with a note of frustration in his voice. I only shrugged. What could he do, really?

"What do you want to do now?"

I thought about it for a moment. We were supposed to have a family dinner today, and then Emmett and I would normally go to church but I didn't think any of these things were going to happen. Certainly not the family dinner with me on board. I needed a substantial amount of time before I could start even thinking about going back home.

"I dunno, to be honest."

"You know, there's this movie..."

Despite my miserable state, I couldn't help but chuckle. That phrase was bound to appear in at least every second conversation we had. Jasper was a movie-maniac. Apparently, there was no thing in life he couldn't relate to some film he'd seen, and get some insight into the matter from that reference. He'd watched just about everything there was worth watching, it seemed. Plus lots of things that weren't worth watching, only to find out that fact.

"Shut up" he said with a smile in his voice. "It's one of my favorite movies, actually... It's called 'Fiddler on the Roof.' I think you should watch it."

"Okay..." I answered vaguely, not really sure where this was coming from. "Like, now?"

"If you want to?"

And so, after a quick deja-vu of changing into Jasper's boxers and pants, I was sat with him on the couch, dvd on and movie starting.

I watched the story of Tevye the Milkmen – a poor Jewish man from a little village in Russia, some hundred years ago. He was this type of a character that you just can't help but like from the first scene – funny as hell, rather short-tempered but kind all the same, evidently a good guy but not in a plastic _lousy movie_ type of way; rather, in a way that made you actually believe he was real.

I laughed my ass off – completely forgetting my shitty situation for a moment – watching his banters with his sharp-tongued wife and some people from the village.

Despite a lot of humor and many light accents in the movie, it was evident that Tevye was living a pretty tough life trying to sustain his family on his very limited income and maintain his religious traditions against the challenges of the outside world.

I watched as his own daughters posed the greatest challenges to his views, forcing him to rethink some of the things he believed in, things that were core part of who he was.

I watched as his third daughter, Chava, pushed him to his limits by falling in love with a man of a different religion.

I watched her reason with him... or him reason with her, depending on the perspective...

_As the Good Book says,__ "Each shall seek his own kind." In other words, a bird may love a fish, but where would they build a home together?" _he'd told her and this was the first phrase in the movie that had me frozen in my seat. The context was so different... but I couldn't help hearing my Mother's voice in my head.

_We were made as a man and a woman, Edward. That's how it's supposed to be._

Then I watched Tevye reject his daughter after she ran away to marry the guy she loved (_Chava is dead to us, _he'd told his wife), and I watched his face, frozen in pain and disbelief, as he sang his farewell song to the daughter he would never speak to again.

_Little bird_

_Little Chaveleh_

_I don't understand what's happening today_

_Everything is all a blur..._

His pain was unquestionable – and yet, he couldn't bring himself to question those teachings of his faith that told him he could not, _must not, _accept his daughter's decision.

I watched his internal battle as she came to him, asking for this acceptance.

_Accept them? How can I accept them? Can I deny everything I believe in?_

_On the other hand, can I deny my own daughter?_

_On the other hand, how can I turn my back on my faith, my people? _

_If I try and bend that far, I'll break. On the other hand..._

_No. There is no other hand._

_No, Chava!_

I watched the girl as she sobbed quietly, bending down to the ground under the weight of this 'No' and I felt dizzy.

Suddenly I felt like it was me there, then, crashed and scrambling under this 'No.'

OK, so my Mom hadn't gone as far to kick me out of her life, but still…

I could hear her voice almost as clearly as if she'd been in the room with us.

_Y__ou decided to stand against everything I believe in... everything I was trying to teach you to believe in?_

_It's like __losing my son…_

I had to ask Jasper to stop the film.

o()()()o

"God, I'm sorry, Edward. I fucked up, didn't I? I shouldn't be showing this to you today, right after you've been through all that shit. I'm such an idiot. I just thought..."

I was hugging my knees to my chest, probably looking shell-shocked, and Jasper had been rambling his apologies for the last... however long that was, and eventually I had to stop him.

"Shut the fuck up, please, J, for the love of God... you're not an idiot and you didn't fuck up, and it was a very good fucking thing you showed me that movie. I just... need a minute to think, OK?"

He sighed and stopped his rambling, still looking at me with concern though. I took his hand, needing the contact while I was trying to sort out my racing thoughts.

The movie... well, the Chava motif anyway – was like a punch in the face, but I could see why Jazz wanted me to watch it. It gave me a whole new perspective – kind of let me look at that... disaster that happenedbetween me and my Mom from the outside.

As much as she had hurt _me, _I knew there was no question: she was suffering, too. Remembering that hurt in her eyes sent a new wave of guilt through me. Then again, remembering the harsh words she'd said brought anger and pain.

_I don't understand what's happening today_

_Everything is all a blur..._

A Jewish girl from Tsarist Russia, marrying outside of her faith.

A Catholic boy from XXI century USA, in a relationship with another boy.

Father of the girl, not able to reconcile his faith and tradition with acceptance of his daughter's choice.

Mother of the boy, not able to reconcile _her _faith and tradition with acceptance of her son's choice.

Time, geography, and the fact that two of the four of us were fictional characters – didn't matter. We were all... torn apart by the same kind of fucking pain.

Why?

Why did we have to suffer it and who was to blame?

Me and Chava?

My Mother and Tevye?

Religions?

Traditions?

God?

Was there even such a thing as a good answer to this question?

/\

A/N: Tell me what you think…?


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